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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410269">Lastly, laugh once again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvertedPhantasmagoria/pseuds/InvertedPhantasmagoria'>InvertedPhantasmagoria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cruelty, Developing Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Food Issues, Hollows are miserable, Intersex, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Stalking, Touch-Starved, Trust Kink, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, instincts, mild xeno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:22:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvertedPhantasmagoria/pseuds/InvertedPhantasmagoria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So...” you start when the man doesn’t appear to be going to say anything. “Who are you? And why have you been following me?”</p><p>“Tch,” is his only response for a moment, eyes fixed on the ground. “Wasn’t expecting a human to be able to sense me. You’re a lucky one, you know that? I could have killed you by now if I wanted to.”</p><p>Well, there’s an answer to one of your questions. He really isn’t human. That was kind of obvious, really, but at least you have it confirmed. You look at him for a moment, taking in how tense his posture is, how uneasy he seems just having a conversation with you. <i>Weird.</i></p><p>“That’s not what I asked.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lastly, laugh once again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! :D This is another commission fic from tumblr (seems like I have a lot of those these days XD), featuring Grimmjow crushing hard on Reader, and getting emotionally fucked up when they wind up using him for their own entertainment! :D Awful, I know, but damn was it fun to write. Warnings include creepy levels of manipulation, sexual coercion, and just generally Reader being mean. Rape/Non-con is listed as a warning because sex happens, Grimmjow says no, and Reader talks him into it. Not explicit, but still very rapey. </p><p>As always, my tumblr is below~</p><p>arrancxr.tumblr.com</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Someone’s been following you. That much is obvious. You haven’t seen the person yet, which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but you know the feeling of someone’s eyes on you-- trailing after you for the past week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On top of that, there’s a warm feeling, like energy crackling in the air, pressure weighing down on your lungs. You don’t know what you’re sensing, but it definitely feels like something that’s a little bit not </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, you let it be. The person seems to have no intention of hurting you; if they did, they probably would have done it quite a while ago. You’re more curious than anything, honestly, especially because even when you feel like the person is right behind you, turning around reveals absolutely nothing. There’s a certain sense of mystery that has you interested in who your unknown stalker is-- and why they can hide so well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before long, that game gets old. You let it go about a week of knowing that you’re being followed before you decide to do something about it. And by doing something about it, you mean heading to a fairly deserted alleyway, empty of bystanders to get in your way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling is still there. It comes and goes sometimes, not always there, but right now, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain </span>
  </em>
  <span>that someone has their eyes on you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” you say to the air, hoping that this’ll work. “I know you’re there. You’ve been watching me for like a week, right? So come out already. I’m tired of wondering who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, absolutely nothing happens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then you blink, and there’s a man standing in front of you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s fairly tall, with tanned skin, pastel blue hair and eyes even more vivid, wearing some strange black and white outfit. Most notably, there’s a large, hole through his midsection, black-walled and empty. </span>
</p><p><span>There’s something wild about him. Even discounting the hole,</span> <span>you get the feeling that this person isn’t exactly what you’d call a </span><em><span>person. </span></em></p><p>
  <span>The man looks at you with something between irritation and a weird, tense sort of interest that leaves goosebumps raising on your arms. You feel watched like a piece of prey, and yet, you don’t sense any danger. Maybe it just comes naturally to him to eye everyone like he could eat them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...” you start when the man doesn’t appear to be going to say anything. “Who are you? And why have you been following me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch,” is his only response for a moment, eyes fixed on the ground. “Wasn’t expecting a human to be able to sense me. You’re a lucky one, you know that? I could have killed you by now if I wanted to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, there’s an answer to one of your questions. He really isn’t human. That was kind of obvious, really, but at least you have it confirmed. You look at him for a moment, taking in how tense his posture is, how uneasy he seems just having a conversation with you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Weird. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grimmjow Jeagerjaques,” the man responds with a huff. “And I’m only telling you because I could kill you any time I feel like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The other part of the question next, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow makes a face at you like you’re suicidal. For all you know, you might be. You have no idea what or who this creature is, let alone why he decided that tailing you was how he wanted to spend the last week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was followin’ you because... Fuck, I don’t know. Just got a weird urge, I guess. Your spiritual pressure feels... interesting. And not in the way that I want to eat you,” he explains, sounding almost petulant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink, taking in the words. He’s right about this being interesting. This creature, Grimmjow, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>interesting. You don’t know exactly how to respond to this whole situation, but you think you can work with it. Looking into the eyes of something entirely inhuman is somehow exhilarating, fascinating, really. There’s got to be something you can do with this. It’s not like he seems too interested in killing you. It should be safe enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been feeling bored lately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to meet you, Grimmjow,” you say, bringing a smile to your face. “So... if you’re not human, what are you? I’m curious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hollow,” he replies, finally straightening his posture and looking you in the eye. “Dead, basically. A spiritual creature that eats souls, to explain it to someone like you.” Ah. Interesting. He sounds almost proud of explaining it. It must be one of those ‘better than humanity’ things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, you’re right. I probably do need a simple explanation. Thank you for explaining it. Since you’ve been following me for all this time, how about you come over to my place? I wouldn’t mind making friends with my dear stalker.” A little laugh and a friendly tilt of your head, and you catch Grimmjow looking at you with utter confusion. How cute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking stupid,” Grimmjow snaps, but quickly follows it up with a much softer tone. “But, yeah... sure. I hope you know what you’re getting into, human. I’m dangerous, and you might find out the hard way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a cocky grin, he follows you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At your house, Grimmjow looks more awkward than you thought would be possible. He keeps looking around like he’s confused, staring at various devices and pieces of furniture with befuddlement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Based on this level of confusion, you’re getting some very, very interesting ideas about just how inhuman he really is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” you say, handing him a couple of pieces of jerky from a bag retrieved from the fridge. He seems like the type to like meat. “It’s food. You should eat something. You know, since I’m your host and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What happens is exactly what you’re expecting. Grimmjow eyes the meat for a minute, looking extremely suspicious. You watch in a way that’s intentionally passive, not letting your anticipation come across. When he does take a bite, it’s impossible to miss the way his eyes widen, the way he swallows without hardly chewing. Even more obvious is the way that he stuffs the other piece into his mouth like a starved animal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s plenty more,” you say with an amiable smile. “Help yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow looks at you with something that’s teetering right on the border of suspicion and trust. It’s a delicious sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he takes the bag, eating a little bit slower now that he knows that he won’t be running out anytime soon. It’s kind of cute... in the way that makes you want to tease him. Your head supplies an image of dangling a piece of jerky just out of his reach, like a cat or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You certainly seem hungry,” you comment after a moment or two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, ‘course I am. There ain’t food like this where I’m from.” He takes a pause to cram more meat into his mouth. “What we eat is souls, and those taste like water-- dissolve halfway down your throat. There’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>eating </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you humans get.” Grimmjow sounds almost bitter when he says it, but his voice is laced with curiosity that you instantly pick up on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like it sucks. There’s plenty of food here, though, so why don’t you visit me again soon. I can get lots more good things for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Grimmjow looks at you after that makes it very clear that you’ve got him. Just like an alleycat, the way to make sure he keeps coming back is by feeding him. That’s sweet-- and very, very doable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow comes back four times after that. Every time, you get him situated on your couch, bring him something to eat, and talk to him while he does so. Every time, you catch yourself staring at both the wicked-looking hunk of bone along his jaw and the void piercing his stomach. You’re fascinated and you know it. Even when he’s not around, you catch yourself thinking of what you’ll do next time to make sure he sticks around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fifth visit, you’ve got a mixed bag of chocolate truffles for him, as well as a throw blanket old enough to be worn and soft. You have a plan, and you can’t wait to see just how hard he falls for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” you say when Grimmjow is back on your couch, having slipped inside through an open window like he usually does, all but materializing in your living room. “I have some </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra </span>
  </em>
  <span>good things for you this time. I know you’re gonna like them... so how about I sit next to you this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow twitches. You could swear that you see a faint blush on his cheeks. He’s getting attached. That much is obvious. You just don’t know if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>understands that much yet. He does seem to be kind of clueless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Grimmjow nods, looking away with a slight scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit down maybe a bit too close to him, pressing the bag of chocolates into his hands quickly enough that he doesn’t complain. Are you scheming? Absolutely. Do you feel guilty? Not a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first bite of chocolate makes Grimmjow’s eyes go almost pitifully wide. You watch with a weird sort of heat in your stomach. Why does seeing him like this make you feel so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fascinated? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The way he licks his lips is doing things to you. He shoves three chocolates into his mouth at once, next, and you’re left staring with something between disgust and satisfaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have something else,” you remind him, abruptly unfolding the blanket that you’d been holding in your lap, spreading it over his shoulders just to see him tense when the contact comes out of nowhere. “From what you’ve told me, I bet there’s nothing this soft where you’re from, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow, still tense, still with a mouthful of chocolate, fists a hand in the blanket as if testing the texture of it. You watch, still smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah,” Grimmjow gets out when he’s managed to swallow what was in his mouth. “It is soft... Ain’t shit like that in Hueco Mundo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s staring at the fabric with anxious confusion that you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>emanating off of him despite the way you know he’s still trying to act tough. When he looks at you, finally meeting your eye, it’s painfully obvious that that’s the expression of a man who’s fallen hard. And yeah, you know you don’t care about him in that way. You don’t how you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>have feelings for something so obviously not human. Grimmjow is entertaining, though, and... you can play into it for a little bit. Why not?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Testingly, you bring a hand up to Grimmjow’s arm, trailing your fingers lightly from the back of his hand up. The first touch makes him twitch like he’s going to hit you, but after that, he’s remarkably still, focusing on the point of contact with confusion and naked shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hollows don’t get things like touch, either, do they? I can guess that you’re too violent for that.” You smile. Grimmjow </span>
  <em>
    <span>stares. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Well, this is how humans show affection. And I want to do that for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With those words, you lace your fingers with his, marveling at how much larger his cold, calloused hand is. Grimmjow’s fingers twitch, moving like he wants to squeeze your hand but isn’t sure if he can do it. If he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You do it for him, stroking your thumb over his scarred knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th’ fuck do you think you’re doing?” Grimmjow grumbles, making no effort to pull away. “Quit being so fucking nice to me. It’s weird. You have no idea what I am, and if you did, you wouldn’t be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t need it.” Despite his words, you can feel his fingers trembling just a little bit. Press a little bit further, you tell yourself, just a bit. If he gets upset, you can always back off. And anyway, how could it hurt to give it a try?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow looks at you with more tension than you thought was possible for someone to have in their body. It looks like you’re scaring the life out of him, but right now, that just makes this all the better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for an answer, you lean in closer, cupping a hand around the side of Grimmjow’s face that doesn’t have the bone lining it. If he hates it, he’ll push you away, right? You tip your head up, tilt it just a bit, then press your lips to his as tenderly as you can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he melts into your touch is exactly what you were hoping for. This close, you realize that Grimmjow doesn’t have a heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow keeps coming back. He’d fled pretty quickly after you kissed him, but in a pattern that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, he reappears every couple of days. You’ve woken up to find him in your living room a couple of times, huddled up and waiting for you. There’s a smitten look in his eyes that you can easily see. Kindness has made the big, scary Hollow, eater of souls, fall for your little human self, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit close to him every time, leaning up against his shoulder as you talk. You figure out quickly that he likes being warm. You turn the heat up for him every time he stops by, just to see his face when you tell him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s adorable in a way that makes you want to see just how far you can push. At some point, you start making a mental list of things that you want to try just to see if he’ll let you. Testing your limits is an increasingly appealing prospect, especially considering how flustered he gets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re starting to find him pretty-- the sharp line of his jaw, the soft, blue fluff of his hair, and of course, the way he looks at you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With pure adoration, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see a Hollow,” you tell him one day. “Not like you. The kind that isn’t evolved yet. Can you bring one back here? A dead one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the fuck would you want that? Those things are dangerous, you know. And not fucking ‘cute’. There won’t be anything pretty about the corpse of something that used to be a person like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care. I want to see what you used to be. It’ll be a learning experience, you know? And besides, I know you’re strong enough to kill one. Even if it’s just a little one, I’m awfully curious. You can do that for me, right?” As you talk, you scoot a little closer, snuggling up against Grimmjow’s shoulder so he can feel your warmth. The way he shudders almost draws a smirk to your face. This is too easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, fine. I’ll drag some corpse here if it’ll make you happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. It would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of you go quiet after that, Grimmjow closing his eyes. You think you should feel a little bit bad about manipulating him like that, but it’s kind of difficult when your Hollow is just so easy. You know how much of a crush he has on you. It’s impossible not to play with him just a little bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a corpse on your doorstep the next evening, bloody and wounded. Grimmjow stands beside it almost proudly, judging your expression as you step outside to look. It’s bigger than you are, with horns, a hidden face, and a black void through its chest just like Grimmjow’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at it for a moment, thinking of just how easy it was for you to get your way. The corpse doesn’t look very human, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I touch your mask?” you ask about a week later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow </span>
  <em>
    <span>flinches. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?” he snaps, looking at you with more tension than you’ve seen from him in a while. A sensitive subject, apparently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s interesting. Humans don’t have anything like that, so I’m curious. It looks so sharp, and it’s hard to believe that it’s really a part of your body. I won’t touch it more than a little bit, so can I? Please?” Once again, you give Grimmjow pleading eyes, smiling up at him sweetly and watching him squirm. He doesn’t want to say no to you, you can tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch the brief mental war that flickers through Grimmjow’s eyes. You know you’re making him nervous, but honestly, that’s the fun part-- pushing just a little bit more than you probably should. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...do what you want,” Grimmjow mumbles after a moment, unable to meet your eyes for any longer. Victory. You’ve won once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise I’ll be gentle,” you tell him, scooting into his lap, pressed up close enough that you can feel Grimmjow’s breathing pick up. If he had a heart, you think it would be pounding in his chest by now, rabbit-fast. “You know I’d never hurt you. Not me. You can trust me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow makes a low, uncomfortable noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your hand to his chin, stroking the skin just underneath the bottom ridge of bone. Grimmjow’s eyes go lidded even as his body tenses even more. Tentatively, carefully, you run one fingertip along the lower edge. The surface is cool and smooth-- somehow warm enough that it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grimmjow shudders under even that slight touch, tipping his head back on what you can only guess to be reflex. You curl two fingers under the rim, stroking the inner edge in a way that draws a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimper </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every touch makes him squirm a little more. You’re quickly learning that this place is a very weak point on such a powerful man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You press a kiss to his mask, a smile on your lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>. . . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to have sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re sitting in Grimmjow’s lap, leaning your head against his chest. It’s not a question. You know by now that what you say goes. At least, it does when you phrase it right. Grimmjow wants to make you happy. He’ll give you what you want because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s for humans,” Grimmjow mutters, the arm he has looped around your shoulders squeezing just a little bit tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said the same thing about </span>
  <em>
    <span>affection </span>
  </em>
  <span>a while back, you know. And now look at you. You got used to it, so you can get used to this too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow stays quiet. You can feel how he’s tensed up, just like he always does when he’s nervous about something. He’s making your favorite face-- the one where he doesn’t want to do something, but he’s just as eager to see you pleased with him. He’s trained, you think happily. You tamed a Hollow, whatever that may mean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. It’ll feel good. You trust me, right? You know I’d never do anything to hurt you...” To make your point, you press a kiss to the tender curve of Grimmjow’s throat, nipping gently at the skin in a way that makes him jolt and tense up even more. You won’t do more than tease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Do what you want.” Grimmjow says it like he’s admitting defeat. You win again, you think with an internal laugh. You get your way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you’d agree with me,” you tell him, cupping his cheek and running your fingers under the edge of his mask. “I’ll take care of you, I promise, so just hold still for me. Is that okay?” The way you say it leaves no room for argument and Grimmjow knows it. He’s smart enough to let the person who touches him kindly get their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slide one hand down Grimmjow’s chest, down his stomach, barely dodging the hole in the center of it. That’s an exploration for another time, one when you can focus on how it’ll take him apart. For now...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You untie the sash around Grimmjow’s waist, tugging his hakama down. He moves with you, letting you get it off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So obedient. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard not to smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow’s dick is smaller than you expected, lying flaccid between his legs. He’s not turned on yet, but you can fix that. You spit in your palm, then curl your hand around the cool skin of it, giving a tentative stroke just to see how he’ll react. As you’re expecting, Grimmjow shudders at the sensitivity, thighs twitching ever-so-slightly. He’s receptive. Nervous, obviously, but receptive enough that this won’t be too difficult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it feel good?” you ask as you twist your fingers around the soft, tender skin of the head, feeling a bit of wetness form against your fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Grimmjow does is bite out a curse, squirming just a bit. You take the opportunity to stroke faster, feeling him harden under your touch. He’s blushing. His breath is picking up. You can feel a tremble in his muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a whim, you curl your fingers down to his balls, rolling his sack gently just to see him squirm. He’s never done this kind of thing before, you know that much. His inexperience is pitifully obvious in the nervousness coursing through him. You know you’re his first, and that’s--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something wet behind Grimmjow’s balls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A testing rub reveals an indent just big enough to fit your fingertip. It feels like a cunt, but Grimmjow is male, isn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But just that tiny touch made Grimmjow </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimper, </span>
  </em>
  <span>breath catching in his chest, and a hand flying to your shirt to cling. He’s sensitive there. He’s scared. The vulnerability must be torture for him, and oh, you want to see him squirm. Keeping your face deliberately neutral, you press against that area once again, nudging at where Grimmjow is wet and tender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D-Don’t--” he whispers, sounding small and scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? It’ll feel good. Let me make you come, Grimmjow. Come on. I know you’re not scared of me.” With a little laugh, you lean up to kiss him, still pressing at his hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimmjow obeys you, going still. He’s shaking. You have a big, scary Hollow quivering before you with nothing more than a few touches to his cunt. You’ve never cared much for Grimmjow as a person-- if </span>
  <em>
    <span>person </span>
  </em>
  <span>is even the term that can be used in this case--, but seeing him squirm has always been entertaining. You’re fascinated with what he is, and more so, how easy it is for you to bend him to your will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You keep going. In minutes, Grimmjow is biting into his hand, holding back little sounds. He keeps getting wetter. You stroke his cock, curl your fingers against the tender dip of his cunt and slowly, slowly press your finger inside, delighting in the choked-off moan that earns you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold still,” you tell him when his hips begin to twist. “You’re about to feel good. I’ll give you what you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All it takes is a little bit more pressure, a little bit more contact, and Grimmjow is going tense all over, shuddering, and moaning muffled cries into the hand held over his mouth. It’s his first orgasm, you can be certain of that much. You’ve taken so, so much of him. You’re the one who gets him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling possessive, you move up and press a kiss to Grimmjow’s lips, crooning about how well he did for you. You’re happy, you tell him. He was so good. You cup his cheek with your clean hand, looking into his pretty blue eyes. He’s yours. He’s all, all yours. You want to take everything from him. You want to see just how far you can push. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” you say, not meaning a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too...” Grimmjow whispers right back, sounding more human than he’ll ever know. You’ve got this beautiful man wrapped around your finger, and that’s right where he should be.</span>
</p>
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